


Checks and Balances

by bubblegummellow



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (like really mild), Alcohol, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Longing, M/M, Mild Angst, One Shot, Pining, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, adjacently that is, historical fiction - Freeform, no fact checking or period appropriate lingo though :), room where it happens, this is wayyyy too long but oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25855840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegummellow/pseuds/bubblegummellow
Summary: Thomas claims:“Alexander was on Washington's doorstep one dayIn distress 'n disarray”Thomas claims:“Alexander said‘I've nowhere else to turn’And basic'ly begged me to join the fray”Thomas claims-
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 112





	Checks and Balances

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all ever start fixating on two bars of lyrics and thinking about the tension in them? ...no?
> 
> Hope you enjoy anyway :)

༺ ༻  
Thomas Jefferson did not want to be walking, and yet he was still putting one foot in front of the other.

The evening was just allowing the sun to unravel itself as it set, streaking pinks and reds across the sky. A cool breeze fluttered through Jefferson’s curls as he walked down the street at a brisk pace. The sooner he visited Washington, the sooner this meeting would be over with, and the sooner he could get back home to a book and glass of red wine.

Jefferson didn’t really want to talk to Washington at the moment, especially about their chosen topic. Congress has been holding massive debates for weeks in the new issues of the presidency, mainly the ridiculous idea of the South inheriting the debt of the whole nation to pay off. They were stuck in a hopeless deadlock that needed to be pushed through, for both the sake of the nation and Jefferson’s sanity. A compromise was what was needed, but Jefferson did not want to bother with validating anything they had to say.

The main reason, of course,was the stupid nature of the bill, but probably the second biggest was the idea being penned by none other than Alexander Hamilton, his political enemy. He was a loud mouthed bastard with no sense of propriety or… sense at all, really. The worst part was that it was only through him spearheading these bull headed schemes that they made it to the front congress floor to be viewed, and only by his word that they were considered reasonable.

It didn’t surprise Jefferson; he knew from day one that Hamilton was a self righteous, self centered douche. They immediately went to blows about the plan whenever they discussed it, and their petty squabbles around the city and their heated fights in the cabinet were evidence that they would never attempt to compromise with the other on a meal for lunch, much less this. Their arrangement of mutual hatred worked perfectly, although Jefferson could admit Hamilton’s looks and charm were probably beginning to push his reputation above his slightly. People somehow found an attractiveness in his cocky demeanor, were put at ease by the fire in his eyes and his shit eating grin. If only something came up about Hamilton to tip the scales back in Jefferson’s favor...

No matter. Here there would be no arguing. Just talking in circles with Washington about any plans before leaving. It would be boring, and contribute nothing: Jefferson wanted nothing more than to blow it off. Regardless though, with his feet propelling him, he didn’t have much of a choice: especially since building rapport with the first President was probably a useful part of the strategy of becoming the second President.

Jefferson walked up the stone steps to Washington’s townhouse door, the street lamps on either side giving an odd glow on the rim of the door knocker. He took the cool metal in his fingers and banged three times on the red door, thinking of what he could do to give the night some interest.

The door swung open, and Hamilton stood behind it, looking like a walking corpse. His long hair was disheveled and hung limply around his shoulders, slumped over in his rumpled green overcoat. His eyes, usually bright and too alert, were dull, like a fish’s dead stare. Most prominent was his mouth, turned down in a sort of closed scowl. He must have been about to leave, because Jefferson was close enough to feel his body heat, smell his scent of parchment and stale smoke.

“Ah, Mr. Jefferson,” Washington appeared behind Hamilton, who clenched his fists. Washington stood tall and broad shouldered as ever, his face half covered by the shadow of a door inside and casting a strong silhouette into the hallway behind him. Despite that, Jefferson felt uneasy watching him pinch his eyes and sigh. “I understand you and I were you to discuss matters, but I’m afraid I have other pressing matters to attend to. Could we meet tomorrow morning instead?”

“That’s fine by me, sir,” Jefferson replied, casting his eyes back down to Hamilton. Hamilton looked back up at him, his eyes having the rough glow of coals in a dying fire. Jefferson heard him grind his teeth and felt a small smile grow on his face at the sound.

“Perfect, I appreciate your understanding. Have a good night, Mr. Jefferson.” Washington turned to close the door, before peering behind him. “Goodnight, Hamilton.”

The door closed, but Hamilton didn’t say anything. He seethed in the doorway a moment longer, before setting forward. He shoved past Jefferson’s chest, which made Jefferson huff and narrow his eyes.

“You could try to say excuse me, you know.” 

“Fuck off,” Hamilton snapped, heading down the stairs. Jefferson felt his eye twitch: something about Hamilton’s aggressiveness never failed to bring Jefferson to his level.

“Just because Daddy wouldn’t give you what you wanted doesn’t mean you have to be a prick.” 

Hamilton whipped around, startling Jefferson, but as quickly as he was roused to anger, he deflated. To see his face go limp and somber made Jefferson squirm. 

“I... I am not in the mood for niceties, Jefferson.” Hamilton said, running his hand through his hair and sighing. 

“Are you ever?” Jefferson scoffed. There was a moment of silence, until Jefferson blinked and examined Hamilton’s face at the bottom of the staircase. He looked so tired... there was something... off about it. It didn’t feel natural for him to not retort, to just take the punch… “...are you feeling well, Hamilton?”

Hamilton seemed to rile himself for a retort, but it caught in his throat. Watching his eyes grow tired again was torture.

“I’ve... been having a rough go of things, lately.” He said, looking down and fiddling with the frills of his cuff.

“Perhaps...” Jefferson looked to his right, out into the streets darkening in the twilight, the street lamps casting their rosy glow. “...you could discuss it with me, if it would aid you.” He didn’t look over until he heard Hamilton respond.

“I’m surprised you care, but considering your degree of fault in this, that would be appropriate retribution.” Jefferson whipped his head up to see him, an indignant sound in his throat. Hamilton still had slumped shoulders and tired eyes, but he was grinning lazily up at him. His attitude problem was integral to his nature, apparently.

“My role? What could I possibly have done to make you look like you’ve risen from the dead?”

“Perhaps I can explain it as you walk me home.”

“You shall have to,” Jefferson said, setting down the stairs to stand next to Hamilton. “So I can show you you’re wrong.”

They set off down the street, the lamps glowing in the twilight. Only a brief sliver of purple day remained now, and the stars were starting to poke out of the night sky. The bustling sounds of the city had slowed and mellowed as the people got ready for bed, and the main sound Jefferson could hear was the step of his and Hamilton’s feet against the cobbles. Even the smells of horse and food in the city were brushed away by a gentle breeze.

Hamilton sighed, and Jefferson looked over at him, taking him in. He must have not gotten sleep in a week, his hair long and mussed up, his eyes narrow and tired. His mouth was parted slightly as they made their way down the road, his tongue peeking out. Jefferson stared for a moment, oddly fascinated by the lack of boldly awareness, but then Hamilton turned to look at him and he jerked his head away.

“So, you’ll have to begin explaining your problem Hamilton, before you can prove it's my fault.”

Hamilton sighed gently, rolling his eyes. “Very well, Mr. Jefferson. I believe you can recall, if you’ve been paying attention, a certain bill plan I am trying to pass in Congress.”

“Ah, yes,” Jefferson said, shaking his head. Everyone knew of that nonsense, even before it was drilled in everyone’s head for months. “The plan to steal money from the South for the nation.”

“For the good of a strong, democratic society, yes. Your memory is better than I thought” Hamilton looked over and winked. Jefferson balked, ignoring the twitch of a flutter in his chest and continuing.

“So, how does that relate to me? I am not the Secretary of the Treasury, I’m sure you know.”

“Well, to be frank-“

“As always.” Hamilton huffed, his gaze tightening. 

“You’ve been shit talking my plan for so long they doubt it without having read it! I can’t believe it, the smear work you and Madison do is worth some sort of recognition for its quality.”

“I think that’s a tad presumptuous of you, Hamilton. How do you know congressmen didn’t just read your plan and start gagging, like I did.” He sneered at him. Well, sure Jefferson had been open about his opinion of the plan, and it had led to some untruthful rumors, but they were centered towards pushing forward the truth that the plan was unfair and poorly written.

“That can’t be the case. They repeat your blasphemous points in the face of my bible, ‘Oh, think of the South! Think of the poor farmers!’” Hamilton swooned, mocking dramatics. Jefferson stared at him, waiting for it to end. Hamilton eventually stopped and rolled his eyes again, before going on. “Even Washington, who had expressed approval for my plan, is starting to doubt me. He won’t let me even attempt to push Congress through the deadlock by speaking to them. It doesn’t help that the Congress has Madison smearing my name, who is as deep in your pocket as they come.”

“Loyalty and trust are not bad notions, Hamilton.” Jefferson said, his hands resting behind his back as his smile grew broader. He saw where this was going. “So you were trying to sweet talk Washington into giving his favorite little soldier exactly what he wanted.”

“He invited me over for dinner,” Hamilton glared as he punctuated the pronouns, “And the conversation went to the deadlock, and we had some unofficial talks about potential negotiations that he turned down without even mulling them over.”

“Why did you expect him to fix your problems for you? The issue lies in your bill, and rewriting it shouldn’t require his help, unless you’re even less competent than I thought.”

“I wouldn’t need to rewrite it if you weren’t smearing my name!” Hamilton shouted, his heat taking longer to simmer down than before. “You’re the one who is wrecking my political reputation, therefore you stopping, and perhaps discussing my good looks, would put an end to the whole issue.”

Jefferson felt his eyes narrow. “You can’t blame me for your insolence, Hamilton.”

“Why, I’m sure that insolence isn’t mine. I try to do my job the best I can for my country, and you come in and try to paint me as some English loving, money grubbing fool.”

“Because you are an English loving, money grubbing fool,” Jefferson replied, his own fists balled up now. “You have no respect for the concepts of freedom and democracy. You just want the power taken away from Britain to yourself.”

“You’re the one who wants power all to yourself.” Hamilton yelled, before sighed and ran his hands through his hair, which settled down in a beautiful fashion. “You don’t want democracy, you want power in the South, in your state, and you want to keep your exploits that got you there.”

Jefferson gasped, at the words, of course, and not the strands of Hamilton’s hair now framing his face. “How dare you-“

“Relax, Jefferson,” Hamilton said testily, making Jefferson’s gut quiver with rage as they turned the corner of the street. “I’m not trying to pick a fight, really.”

“You’ve been fighting with me this whole walk!”

“As I said, I’m not trying to.”

Jefferson scoffed. “Any yet you’re blaming me for all of your problems because I happened to disagree with you.”

“It’s not just that,” Hamilton growled, his shoulders tending.

“Then what is it?”

“Like you don’t know.” Jefferson felt his patience snap, before he knew it was being whittled. 

“Why would I know why you’re acting like a bastard?”

“Because it’s your fault!” He cried out, stopping on the sidewalk. A heavy silence sat between the two men now, as Hamilton looked down, his lip quivering as he bit it. Jefferson blinked. This wasn’t the side of Hamilton he was supposed to see. Jefferson was supposed to see the cocky, self made bastard, taking everything for himself and pushing himself forward to the top. This was- this was the poor, immigrant side of him. The desperate, needy man, locked in a path with nowhere to go without the grace of others. And he was in pain.

“Wha… what do you mean, Hamilton?” Hamilton ignored him, turning his face to the side, squinting as if it would make the tears smarting at his eyes dry out. It melted the ice cold anger in Jefferson’s heart. It made the edges soften and expand outward.

Jefferson was not a man of tactile contact, but he stepped closer to Hamilton, until they were mere inches apart. He raised his hand, but hesitated. He didn’t want to touch the jackass, but this wasn’t… the same man. He didn’t feel the same, anyway. Jefferson gently put his hand on his shoulder, making Hamilton look up slowly. Jefferson squeezed his hand slightly, nervous about the touch, but secretly pleased at the warmth. “What else is wrong?”

Hamilton’s head was still slightly bowed, but his dark black eyes met Jefferson’s, making his heart flutter oddly. “I’m just…” he whispered, before sighing and speaking a bit louder, “I’m just so tired. I’m working so hard, and- and I haven’t seen my wife- my family in weeks- they’ve gone up to spend time with my father in law while I’m stuck-“ He gestured between the two of them. “Fighting. Pushing this debt plan through.” He sighed, looking more deflated than ever. “If only there was someone to help me reach a compromise in Congress… I could see my family again, and relax for once…”

If Hamilton were as he normally was, cocking an eyebrow and smirking, Jefferson could have easily laughed him off. But this Hamilton, the weary, pleading one…

“I’m… sorry, about the situation you are in, Hamilton.” 

Hamilton smiled slightly, chuckling under his breath. “I appreciate the apology.”

“If you need anything… well, not a compromise, but...” Jefferson faltered a moment, before being able to smile at him. “I’m here for you.” He squeezed Hamilton’s shoulder, which made him mumble a thanks and Jefferson’s heart stir in his chest.

They stood there a bit longer, almost frozen in time, if not for Jefferson hearing the man’s deep breathing, feeling the rise of his chest. The light of the streetlamp cast a rosy glow onto Hamilton’s face, making his tired face come alive. His face… well, Hamilton was still awful, and not conventionally attractive, but his features were pleasing when soft like this. He had big, warm brown eyes, and quite long lashes to frame them. His skin was the rosy tan of sand, and his hair looked less like a shaggy dog and more like smooth strips of oak wood. The appeal was certainly there. Jefferson could stand here like this for quite a while, peering at Hamilton, with one small bit of contact, his hand on his overcoat...

Hamilton took Jefferson’s hand in his own for a moment, only to take it off his shoulder. His eyes were still tired, but kind, and he gave him a bigger smile. “We should get back to my residence, yeah?” 

Jefferson nodded, and they set off walking. Jefferson clenched his hand, which already missed the soft heat of Hamilton’s body. He felt… pity for him. Which was absurd- Hamilton couldn’t become a man in Jefferson’s mind. It would leave him too susceptible to manipulation. Hamilton needed to remain a concept, the broad strokes of a political idiot, so that balance could be kept.

They made their way down the street until they reached the stairs that led up to Hamilton’s townhome. 

“Well, this was a fine conversation, for once, Hamilton.” Jefferson turned to walk away, shaking his head softly, when he felt something warm snag his wrist. Hamilton tugged his arm gently back, looking down at the ground as his grip tightened around Jefferson’s wrist. Jefferson gasped and squirmed, feeling the warmth radiating off of Hamilton’s hand. He could have easily yanked his hand away, but something about the touch... 

Hamilton looked up into his eyes, strands of hair framing in his face wildly. His eyes were wide, glowing for the first time that night, and his lips parted for a moment before he spoke. “Would... would you stay for a drink? Please?”

Jefferson balked at the idea of entering Hamilton’s home, thinking how much nicer mulling over his rival’s defeat would be at his own place, but something about Hamilton’s eyes... the gleam of his old passion mixing into his desperate looks and his quiet plead... it made Jefferson’s heart skip a beat. It made his chest feel full, his breath feel short.

“...a drink?”

“If you’d like. Perhaps we could further discuss my debt plan...” Hamilton’s mouth turned up into a smirk, “or whatever else you’d like to talk about.” Well...

“Of course,” Jefferson mumbled before he could catch himself. Hamilton grinned wickedly at that, chuckling as he pulled Jefferson up the stairs into the house and closed the door.

Jefferson blinked, adjusting to the low light as he was pulled through a candle lit hallway. Hamilton’s grip was tight around his wrist, which seemed to set Jefferson’s heart racing along with being in the novel territory of his enemy’s home. That’s what made him gasp when Hamilton’s arm stopped him in his tracks by a door frame. That’s what made his lip quiver when Hamilton struck a match and lit a candle on a nearby shelf, what made his face heat up when Hamilton gave him a sly smile, his dark eyes simmering in the candlelight. It was the unfamiliar ness with the terrain, not with Hamilton.

“If you don’t mind a bit of grime, Mr Jefferson, all the alcohol is in this cellar here.”

“I-if I minded grime, Hamilton, I wouldn’t have come into your house.”

“Ugh- don’t make me kick you out,” Hamilton said, but he smirked and took Jefferson’s hand again as he led him down the spiral stone steps.

The staircase led to a stone cellar, lined with barrels of wine and cases of liquor. The room was bare of furniture besides a wooden counter in one of the corners of the room. Everything else was just crates for alcohol.

“Here-“ Hamilton let go of his hand again as he stepped forward to place the candle on the counter and grab glasses. Jefferson walked closer to the counter and snuck a glance at his hand, feeling once again like it was empty… like he needed something in it. He wouldn’t let his mind fill in the blanks about what.

Hamilton filled two glasses with red wine and handed one to Jefferson. Jefferson’s fingers brushed his hand as he took the glass, and Jefferson almost could imagine sparks coming from their hands, lighting up the cellar. Something about his touch… no, it couldn’t excite him. What could possibly be enticing about Hamitlon’s long, slender fingers?

Hamilton raised his glass to toast, proclaiming “To America, and to us.” In the candlelight, Hamilton seemed to glow, his face an even warmer sandy tan, and his hair catching the light like a halo around his scalp. His eyebrow was cocked in a way that seemed to make the room tilt with it, and his smirk made Jefferson think about things he needed wine to flush out.

“To America and us,” Jefferson repeated, taking his first sip. He couldn’t help but sigh at the taste- it was incredibly well aged, and very sweet to boot. With the undertones of sweet cherry underneath the tart grape- “Mm, this is delicious, Hamilton.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Hamilton replied, taking a sip. “Though the rest of it is still being aged out in Maine, so I hope you don’t like it too much.”

“Oh, of course I like it too much,” Jefferson simpered, grinning at him. “I’m planning to steal the rest from you tonight before I leave, when you’re not looking.” He was expecting Hamilton to retort or go on about how he would stop him, but instead he laughed.

“Well, I could charge you for theft, but it would be one I already know about, so it would be harder to build a proper case.”

“Why, yes, preplanned theft without breaking and entering would be hard to send a political official of the law to jail for.” 

“It is a much milder crime than normal theft. It’s the type of crime that would be hard to punish at all,” Hamilton stated, pausing as he filled up his glass. He met Jefferson’s eyes though as he raised the wine to his lips, almost studying him in a way that made Jefferson’s gut tense as he said, “like battery and curfews… and sodomy”

Jefferson choked on a bit of wine, not believing what his ears heard. “What?” Hamilton's smile faded as he started to blush. He looked away, down at the ground as he fiddled his wine glass back and forth.

“I just said it was a weaker crime, is all.”

“What did you say about sodomy?!” How did the conversation get here? From talking of wine to- to sex...

“Nothing!”

“You tell me not to steal from you and your mind jumps immediately to sodomy?” Jefferson cried, grinning at the sheer ridiculousness of the statement. 

“It was- just on my mind!” Hamilton yelled, his eyes flaring up again in that way that made Jefferson go wild. “It sounds like you agree with me anyway!”

“Well, I do,” Jefferson admitted. Sodomy, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t really wrong at all, unless one was already stricter about sex than they ought to be. Hamilton’s eyes went wide at this, looking up at Jefferson with a wistful look he couldn’t quite pin.

“You do?”

“Don’t make me change my mind,” he said, feeling a new pressure to disagree with him. “But no, while I would never do something like that, it’s not the end of the world.”

“Well, then…” Hamilton took a long sip of wine before responding, “That’s good to know.” God, how could he be so obvious!?

“I still can’t believe it.” Jefferson chucked, shaking his head. “That’s one way to admit you’re a sodomite.” Hamilton smirked at him, a knowing look in his eye.

“I didn’t admit anything, Mr. Jefferson.”

“Sure- you must think me a fool.”

“Your actions usually suggest so.”

“So does Mrs. Hamilton enjoy exploring this second hole?” Jefferson asked, “or are you a more traditional sodomite that seeks out your fellow man for assistance?” Jefferson knew the second was right from the flush in his cheeks and the scoff in his throat.

“You suggest that I am a criminal, Mr. Jefferson.”

“I always think you a criminal, Mr. Hamilton,” Jefferson said softly, looking up at him and cringing at his too tender tone. Hamilton looked up with his mouth slightly agape, so he looked away and twirled his hand as he went on. “I suppose it could be expected of a soldier anyway, stuck with only male companionship.”

“Right.” Hamilton sneered and took another sip. “Plus I’m sure you would peg me for a lot of crimes beyond sodomy.”

“Such is the nature of political enemies, I suppose.”

“Enemies!?” Hamilton cries out, laughing hard enough that he started blushing in the apples of his cheeks. Jefferson felt his ears flush. “Why- I would say we are rivals, at the very most!”

“That is a very friendly way of looking at my apparent political sabotage of your plans, Hamilton.” Jefferson scoffed, looking away. This man’s passions ran so strongly and without course… he was impossible to read, in a way that made his head spin.

“Well, a lot of that is just a part of the job,” Hamilton said, slowly tracing the rim of his glass. “I wouldn’t invite an enemy into my home, and an enemy wouldn’t enter.” Jefferson couldn’t think of a response, so he merely blinked. Hamilton was staring deeply into his eyes, smiling as his voice took on a huskier tenor. “What do you gain from coming into my house for a drink? Why are you here, if you are my enemy?”

Jefferson looked back down and took a long sip of wine. He wasn’t sure how to proceed with this conversation, he really wasn’t that sure why he was here in the first place. It wasn’t kindness, and it didn’t feel solely like pity. It certainly wasn’t wanting a compromise. Those were fine notions he could fight for later. They didn’t satisfy the twitching feeling in his gut at the sight of Hamilton, the way his hands thumbed glass as he gazed at the man over his cup, wishing it to become warm and soft. What he really wanted, he knew, as he looked over Hamilton’s lithe body, the way his hands fiddled with the green of his coat to show him more of his chest, was to touch him again, he wanted to touch more than his shoulder. He wanted his chest and his belly and his thighs and his-

“Are you alright, Mr. Jefferson?” Jefferson jerked his head up. Hamilton was looking at him, his gaze too soft and his smile too kind. His face felt like it was burning- what the hell was he thinking?

“Of course.” Jefferson took another sip of wine and looked away, his gut prickling at the feeling of his eyes on his body. Hamilton, never one to take a hint, leaned over the counter towards him, eyeing him closely.

“You look a little… flustered, Jefferson,” Hamilton’s grin was audible even as Jefferson looked determinedly away. He still felt warmth flood his body, setting his limbs on edge. Damn him, damn his teasing when he was feeling so lost and… and anxious. Hamilton could see his odd bout of nerves, and he was trying to play off them for… something. The visible weakness made his cheeks flush.

“It is a bit hot in here…”

“Yes, my cool basement cellar can get quite warm…”

“I don’t see why you care, exactly.”

“Why, Jefferson!” Hamilton slapped his cheek in mock surprise. He laughed as he walked around the bar. “You are my guest! I pride myself on being hospitable to my guests, especially when they’re quite attractive.” He took a step closer, until he was right in front of Jefferson. Jefferson didn’t expect him to be as near as he was, so Hamilton’s breath on the nape of his neck startled him. “I like to keep them satisfied. Especially with you not being my enemy, which means you can provide assistance for my plan...”

Jefferson turned to look at him, thinking of marching back up the stairs at the idea of political favors, but Hamilton… in the candlelight of the cellar, he was gorgeous. He stared at him with an impish smile, but those same warm eyes, making his expression both kind and plotting. There was energy in his eyes, hell, there was energy in the room. It was palpable… it made Jefferson’s arm hairs stand on end. It made him… excited, and yet it made him want to just… lie down.

Jefferson licked his lips, meeting his eyes. A small part of him felt wary, but he was emboldened by the close presence of their bodies together, and Hamilton was very good at bringing him down to his level. “You’ll have to work quite hard at it, because there is a lot of me to satisfy…”

Hamilton chuckled deeply, making Jefferson’s ears grow hot. “Is there?” He narrowed his eyes and grinned wider as he examined his chest. “It sounds as if you want me to try and take you.”

“I… suppose I do...” Jefferson admitted, making Hamilton look up and study him. “That is, I want you to show me what you consider satisfaction.”

Hamilton’s eyes grew dark, and Jefferson was worried he overstepped, but then he felt his face grow hot as Hamilton’s eyes traced again down Jefferson’s frame. They settled on his chest, then his abdomen, then just below, and that lingering lust in his eyes as he raised his head to meet Jefferson’s made his head swim in anticipation. He was so... obvious. Hadn’t everything been obvious? His intentions seemed so clear from the moment he invited him inside. He asked him anyway.

“What are you looking for, Hamilton?” 

Hamilton hummed under his breath, taking another step forward so their chests just touched. Jefferson felt himself lean closer still, until he could see the mild sweat dotting his brow, the part of his lips, the line where the wide pupil of his eye met the deep brown iris. Their noses were almost touching, their lips so close... Hamilton exhaled and his warm breath hit Jefferson’s chin.

“I need to get laid,” he said plainly. Jefferson’s gut quivered, his head hot and pants suddenly tight. Hamilton licked his top lip and continued, “I need my debt plan solidified, and I need to see my family, but currently I think getting to cum is my highest priority.”

“That’s vulgar,” Jefferson spat out. Hamilton raised an eyebrow and chuckled at him. 

“Do you not want the same thing?” Hamilton rested his palm on Jefferson’s chest and he gasped, the electricity practically audible in the room. “Why else would you follow me inside for a drink? How long has it been since you’ve gotten a piece?” His other hand rose to trace Jefferson’s jawline.

Too long, Jefferson answered mentally as he pressed into his hands, though he would never give such a satisfying answer to him. Too long since he had felt skin on skin, since anything more tender than his own hand had graced him. France has all the free time in the world for pleasure, and lots of beautiful women ready to assist him. But with work, with stress, it had been ages... it had been...

“So long I’ll even fuck your rat ass,” he said, his grin widening with Hamilton’s eyes. Before he could blink, Hamilton put both hands on his chest and pushed him back into the wall. Jefferson whined at the pressure, which didn’t match the smug attitude he wanted to convey, but he couldn’t seem to care as Hamilton closed the gaps between them.

“Then we’ve found something we agree on.” Any retort died in Jefferson as Hamilton finally kissed him.

Jefferson’s first thought was that Hamilton’s mouth was even hotter than his hands. It made sense, given the passionate remarks that sped out of it.

His second thought, as he was enveloped in silky hot lust, was that Hamilton was a very good kisser. He pushed onto Jefferson’s lips just so, slowly working his tongue around his mouth and the corners of his teeth before pulling off in a huff, panting softly. Their lips met again, and Jefferson hummed at the feeling of stubble against his chin. Hamilton ran his fingers down Jefferson’s shoulders, feeling his waist. Jefferson didn’t know what to do with his hands for a moment, before pushing them against Hamilton’s chest, then sliding them around so one was gripping his shoulder and the other went over to the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and felt himself sink back into the cool wall, let everything sort of fall into place on its own.

“You’re so… sloppy,” he whimpered as they both took a quick, hot breath and rejoined. He felt Hamilton’s one hand sneak into his hair and card through Jefferson’s curls, which made him shiver underneath his clothes. He cracked an eye open to see Hamilton grin up at him, before tugging. Jefferson moaned and rolled his head in the direction, Hamilton merely kissing his neck in reply. As Hamilton played with his hair, he carefully kissed his way to a good spot on his neck and bit, which made Jefferson buck up.

Hamilton was half hard at best, but the motion of their lower halves joining sent them both into a state, Jefferson running his own hands into Hamilton’s silky brown hair to pull, Hamilton making even stronger bite marks along Jefferson’s neck.

“Mm… do you want to just keep going here?” Hamitlon asked him, pressing his thumb into the clavicle of Jefferson’s neck to watch him squirm. “Or would you like to come up to my bedroom?”

“Hm…” Jefferson hummed as Hamilton kissed him again, with more sweetness as his smiles into his full lips. “I’ll have to think about it a moment, Hamilton.” He couldn’t make choices, couldn’t think about what was going on. It would break the careful distancing that was allowing him this pleasure. Carnal pleasure was Jefferson’s weakness (and apparently Hamilton’s), but he couldn’t let his brain start feeling guilty yet. He needed a bit more time to think with his dick.

He needed more time to get lost in Hamilton, which would be easy when he kissed him so fiercely, lapping at his mouth like it was candy. Their chests were pressed together, their hands roaming each other. Hmailton was very good at trailing his fingers over his skin, hard enough to be felt through his clothes, but light enough that it left goosebumps in its wake. Hamilton pulled away and smirked at Jefferson, shifting his leg to press against Jefferson’s junk.

“Fuck!” He groaned, his head swimming. That- it felt so good- “Let’s- let’s go to your bedroom, Hamilton.”

“Finally,” Hamilton grinned as he grabbed his arm and pulled him up the cellar stairs. 

They went up a second set of stairs, passing a drawing room and Hamilton’s study (which Jefferson would have paid to get into), before finally making it to his bedroom. The bed was against the wall, a window visible behind the curtains. As Hamilton led him to the bed, Jefferson felt something cold run down his spine.

“Are- are we going to be seen?”

Hamilton looked out the window and hummed. “Everyone should be asleep. That room across from us is a study anyway.” Jefferson relaxed enough to sit on the bed, though he still looked at the window. 

“I suppose no one works at night except you.”

“Correct!” Hamilton singsonged, sliding up onto Jefferson’s lap. Jefferson gasped, grabbing the man’s ass as Hmailton resumed exploring his mouth. Pressing together standing was one thing, but to be on top of him, kissing him all over.

Jefferson took his hands to Hamilton’s overcoat and started to pull it off. The coat was slightly too big for him, and slid off with ease when Hamilton stuck his arms out. Hamilton grinned as he pulled at Jefferson’s cravat, while Jefferson ran his fingers along his arms.

When Hamilton succeeded at getting the cravat off, he kissed more of his neck, leaving marks all over the skin. Jefferson felt goosebumps on his skin, but he pushed Hamilton off his neck. 

“I know you like biting my head off, but how about we take off more clothes first?” Hamitlon rolled his eyes, but smirked.

“If you’re that desperate to strip, I suppose it can be arranged.” Hamilton said, taking the lapels of Jeffferson’s coat. He slowly dragged it from his arms, feeling up Jefferson’s biceps as he did so, and threw it to the floor when it was off. Hamilton then took to the buttons of his vest, pressing each one into him as an excuse to feel his body. “God,” he yelped as he slid the vest and shirt off and saw his defined chest and chiseled abs, deep oaky brown and slick with sweat. “Fuck, your abs!” He pressed his hands along the ridges of his body in wonder, making Jefferson preen into his touch.

“That is the benefit of exercising, Hamitlon,” Jefferson crooned, taking his own lips to Hamilton’s neck. He pulled the cravat off and nipped a spot on his neck before clamping his teeth down and sucking. Hamitlon whined and tilted his neck to expose more. Tasting the salt and pearl sugar of someone else’s skin was wonderful, and Hamilton’s sandy tan skin was already making a red bruise when he pulled off.

“Do it again,” Hamitlon demanded, looking at him with a fire in his eyes. Jefferson chuckled.

“There are other places I’d like to bite you, Hamilton.” He fumbled with the buttons of his vest, and then took Hamilton’s hands and pulled them up above his head. He admired his work a moment, Hamilton craning his beautifully bruised neck up and smirking at him, his hands hot and restricted. Jefferson pulled the billowing fabric of his shirt over his head, before pushing his chest against the headboard.

Hamilton’s body was softer from lack of exercise, but it didn’t make him look less gorgeous to Jefferson. He was all smooth curves and lines, his chest rising and falling jerkily, his belly warm and framed by the v lines of his hips, leading to the part of him still covered by his breeches. He looked so aroused, pinned against the headboard and panting, strands of hair in his face. Jefferson trailed his hands along his sides as he bit at the crook of his shoulder, the soft of his belly, the crevasse of his hip bone. Hamilton was vocal, telling him where to go and to bite harder and that god did he look good when he was feeling him all over.

Jefferson finally was nosing around his breeches, and that was where his inexperience caught up with him. He did not usually feel aroused by men or wish to fuck them, which while migated by Hamilton being more beast than man, did not change his inexperience with the equipment. He felt Hamitlon wriggle under his grasp, then pull and hand out of his grasp to stroke his cheek.

“You alright?”

“Yes… I just don’t quite know what to do with your dick. I’ve never made love to a man before, you see.”

“You’re a natural,” Hamitlon purred, but he got up and pushed Jefferson back against the bed now instead. “But I don’t mind taking charge…” He kissed Jefferson hotly all over his chest and abs, taking his sweet time pressing his fingers into every groove of his muscle. Jefferson bit his lip to try and contain his whimpering, feeling the wave of desire inside of him growing frothy and strong as it hit the shoreline. It was easy to lose yourself in the focus of Hamilton’s attention, the eye of his storm. It was so easy to fall away like sand and let yourself be worn down and ruined, carried away by the uncontrollable tide.

Hamitlon rose above him and pulled down his own breeches, showing a prominent, thick dick already leaking precum amid a mass of curly brown hair. His dick had a sort of curve upward, showing off his balls quite nicely. Jefferson never really had the chance to explore a man’s body or consider its attractiveness, but he had a lot of ideas now that he was presented with such a fine one. Ideas that made his head swim with heat, drowning his propriety-

Hamilton’s hands pressed to Jefferson’s bulge, making him hiss and whisper a curse. Hamilton's eyes grew wide as he pulled down his breeches and undergarments, almost purring at the sight. Jefferson has no reason to measure his dick in years, but he knew he had to be decently endowed, and Hamilton’s sinful gaze from his cock to his eyes seemed to be proof. 

“So…” Hamilton started, “... you’re definitely bigger than me.” Jefferson couldn’t help but grin, his chest swelling.

“A forgone conclusion, really.”

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter… what’s important is how you can use it.”

“If only you took all your losses this easil-ah!” Jefferson was cut off by his own whine as he felt the tickle of Hamilton’s finger on the top of his dick. Hamilton grinned up at him, before his gaze grew soft and he leaned over. He gently licked Jefferson’s head, and it made him shudder and uselessly buck forward.

“Fuck yes, Hamilton…” Hamilton smirked as he slowly took his head in his mouth, licking up his precum. Jefferson felt like he was melting, taking Hamilton’s head and trying to push him farther. Hamilton took most of him deep into his mouth, licking the underside in a hypnotizing swirl pattern. Jefferson could feel the silky tightness of his cheeks around his dick, bringing him to a sort of nirvana. He pulled off to lick his hand before coming back on. As he bobbed, making Jefferson see stars, he wrapped his wet hand along the remaining base of his cock, completely coating it in warm wetness. 

“Oh, fuck yes Hamilton you- you’re so good,” Jefferosn babbled. “Take more, come on- you little whore“ he groaned as he sucked on him, his hands tugging on his hair. He wasn’t sure really what to say, or what he was saying, but it was easy to think of things to call Hamilton. “You- you bitch- you should do this more often- make better use of your- fuck! Your fucking mouth!”

Hamilton whined around his dick. Jefferson moaned too loudly at the vibrations, feeling like the heat was too much to bear. He was smoldering in Hamilton’s gaze, fuming red hot between his skilled lips. Deep down he wanted nothing more than to be chucked into the fire and finished, but the way he was being burned like incense, slowly eaten away until he was nothing but smoke… that also made him feel good in a way that made him feel guilty.

As soon as he felt he’d burn alive, Hamilton pulled off, his tongue slightly peeking out of his upturned lips. He put his hand to his chin and seemed to ponder something, while Jefferson, feeling needy, took his other hand and led it towards his dick.

“Stop,” Hamitlon ordered, taking his hand away and batting Jefferson’s. Jefferson pushed his hips up, hoping Hamilton would realize he needed more attention, but Hamilton was lost in himself for a moment. Finally, he blinked and seemed to focus. “... yeah, yeah I’m clean, this is alright.” He rose up and pushed away from Jefferson, leaving him feeling even more empty..

“What are you doing?” Jefferson whined, as Hamilton twisted around to get into his bedside drawer. Hamilton didn’t answer until he had pulled away with a vial, giving its contents a small shake.”

“Have the French introduced you to anal?” Hamilton asked, as he spread his legs and raised them, showing a glimpse of his asshole beneath his ballsack.

“I can’t say they have,” Jefferson replied, looking up from Hamilton’s nether regions to his face. “Though I feel I can understand the concept.” Hamilton chuckled.

“You’re lucky- I would fuck your ass so hard if I could prepare you, but that would take much longer than I’d like, so…” He uncorked the bottle, filling the room with the smell of oil, and started to coat his fingers in the liquid before lowering them.

“Hold on,” Jefferson said, taking Hamiton’s knees in his hands and spreading his legs farther, making Hamilton stutter out an “oh” and lean back against the bed. “Whatever you’re doing, I would like a decent view.”

Hamilton chuckled, his laughter making Jefferson’s face flush, before it flushed even more as Hamilton gently slid the first finger into his own ass. He whimpered, gently rolling his hips. His dick bobbed as his finger went to the knuckle and probed in and out. 

“Ah, fuck…” he gasped, starting to get into it and rocking up and down on the digit a few times before he added his second. Jefferson felt almost hypnotized by it, Hamilton’s quiet moans as his fingers slid in and out, slick with oil and red with pressure, spreading out his asshole with his two fingers. He wondered for a moment if Hamilton wanted him to just watch, or put his own fingers inside, but he had an idea he found much more suitable for the both of them.

“Could I…” Hamilton cracked open an eye for Jefferson as he started, but not really knowing how to communicate the desire, gestured from his dick to Hamilton’s asshole. This earned a genuine laugh.

“That’s the idea…” he said weakly, his brow dotted with sweat. “Let me just- oh fuck, let me just open up a bit more.”

“Of course…” Fed up with the lack of touch, Jefferson leaned forward and kissed him anyway, feeling the bob of Hamilton’s body as his hand rose to touch his chest. Hamilton whined and used his other hand to grip Jefferson’s back, digging his finger into the hot, brown skin of his back. They parted a moment for one hot breath before kissing again, all soft and warm, and drooly on Hamilton’s end. Jefferson kissed the corner of his mouth, then worked his way down to the crook of his neck as Hamilton squirmed and stuttered out a groan. Jefferson caught his teeth in the skin above Hamilton’s collarbone, tasting his sweat and soap, and Hamilton whined hard enough to make his dick tremble.

“All right…” he panted, pulling Jefferson’s head up and taking the other hand out. “Ready when-when you are.”

Jefferson leaned back as Hamilton adjusted his position, sliding further down the bed and propping his feet up, tilting his hips to show his asshole off. Christ, what a pretty picture, all exposed and bare, ready to be taken…

Jefferson leaned forward, as if to kiss his asshole, before faltering. How should he...

“I… may need you to show me how, Hamilton.” Jefferson said, feeling a different, less attractive blush on his face. He expected more soft laughter, but Hamilton instead snorted.

“I would have assumed you were good at sticking your dick into things.” Hamilton said, rolling his eyes. “You get so much practice.” Jefferson almost objected, before Hamilton met his eyes and winked and warmed his core again. He watched as Hamilton grabbed the bottle of oil off the bed. He coated his hand with the rest of the contents and lightly traced a finger over the top of Jefferson’s cock, making Jefferson bite back a whimper. When Hamilton finally took his whole dick in his fist, Jefferson almost sobbed, canting his head back. God, so good… Hamilton’s hand was very different from his own, especially with the quick, fast strokes that left him breathless. Jefferson normally went a bit slower, but he was fine with a change of pace…

Too soon for his liking, Hamilton pulled his hand back, making Jefferson huff and raise his hips again for friction. Hamilton merely clicked his tongue and admired his handiwork: Jefferson’s dick almost painfully hard and slick with oil and precum. Jefferson felt ready, but Hamilton spat anyway, dribbling more on his cock for good measure.

“That’s almost a put off, Hamilton,” Jefferson retorted, despite not wanting to complain about his dick getting a few final tugs up and down.

“Oh sure, spitting for lube is gross, but putting my whole mouth on your dick something I should do more often…” Hamilton scoffed as he grabbed at Jefferson’s hips for purchase. “You ought to make up your mind about the cleanliness of the human mouth.” Jefferson was about to retort until his body seemed to buzz outside itself- Hamilton had guided the head of Jefferson’s dick to his asshole.

The push in sent them both too close to the edge too quickly, Jefferson pausing to curse midway inside and Hamilton moaning out. 

“C- come on, Jefferson.” Hamilton was so- so warm. He panted, his thighs flushed red, squirming around Jefferson’s dick. Jefferson impulsively pushed all the way in, then groaned loudly at the sensation: being balls deep in Hamilton was a rung in the circle of hell for a number of reasons, but it had to be a low one because of the heat and pressure. 

“Christ, Hamilton.” Jefferson rolled his hips forward and Hamilton cried out as they set a slow pace. Jefferson was obsessed with Hamilton’s passion- which was common, but certainly not in situations like this. Hamilton pushed against Jefferson’s hips in time, his own dick swaying and drooling precum on his lower stomach.

“Oh, go faster, like- ngh, yes! Like that!” Hamilton babbled, his head lolling back, How could he be so tight- while there was a definite appeal in the soft, wet mess women made, Jefferson loved the way Hamilton’s end pushed on his, the way it fit him completely, like a glove. It made him feel feverishly hot as he pushed further into him. It made the room spin in the heat, wavering like metal in the sun, absorbing the heat and the energy, It made him feel so- so good. 

“Mm, good- fuck!” Jefferson would have to do this again sometime. Not with Hamilton, of course, although the way he whined and cursed and moaned around his dick and the way his strands of long brown hair bounced with the motion would certainly be missed, but sometime. He’d want to savor this again, the feeling of pushing in and out, and- and taking his body for himself. Pumping inside of him… becoming a part of him, losing himself to the heat, the fire, the water, the tension between them.

“Mm, oh god, yes- there!“ Hamilton gasped before moaning even louder, his tongue sliding out of his mouth as drool trickled down his chin. It made Jefferson buck harder, making a wet slapping sound between their skin. Oh, the way he was falling apart, the way he whined at every moment, so loud and hard and wet and needy. It set Jefferson’s nerves alight, left him smoldering, being set aflame. Burning like parchment, with nothing but a pile of smoky ash and whines left to float in the breeze.

“Oh T- Jeffers- fuck! ‘M close, please, I’m so close, right there, please, yes!”

“Fuck yes, Alex, you- fuck, you slut, take me more, take- take-“ Jefferson was soaring through the sky, being flung out of balance, out of the star’s alignment, and if he could just place a bit more right… right

There. His world flashed white as he hit the peak, stopping abruptly balls deep inside Hamilton. He was burning, he was set aflame, everything inside of him snapped and charred. He could barely feel through the surrounding pleasure Hamilton rocking himself on his dick until he finally cried out Jefferson’s name and came. Jefferson pulled out and slumped over, the burning in his bones quickly being put out. He felt Hamilton curl around him, his hands wrapping around his chest and his leg sliding in between Jefferson’s. His eyes fluttered shut as he caught his breath. Hamilton pecked sloppy kisses over his face before nestling closer into his arms. He needed to doze for a moment, just like this, and let his body finally relax since he saw Hamilton that night...

So, Jefferson thought, as clarity finally hit him. Balance had not been kept.

How could he argue against Hamilton now? How could he ever see his face in a cabinet again? Hamilton couldn’t remain a broad concept when he was curled up on his chest, breathing softly into the small of his neck. Hamilton was a person, a person he had just joined with, just literally poured himself into. The old, picture-perfect exaggeration was shattered. Hamilton was more than human now- he was a human he liked, and desired.

He waited a moment in the quiet of night, letting Hamilton sleep a bit more on top of him. He figured the stickiness of the drying cum on his stomach and things would be enough to keep him awake while he let Hamilton get some much needed sleep. They stayed like that, Hamilton snoring softly, never quiet, while Jefferson looked up at the ceiling. All was quiet and still, the night empty compared to New York in the day, even with the quiet chirp of crickets in the distance. Jefferson hadn't expected to find peace tonight until he reached his house, but he had sort of lucked out, despite the breach of propriety. He had found distraction, and the peace, in the small of Hamilton’s back and the deepness of his breathing. 

When he felt his eyelids dip though, he had to break away. Hamilton let him slip out of his arms, but propped himself up and watched him clean off and get dressed.

“That was wonderful, Jefferson.” His voice seemed to have a renewed energy to it that made Jefferson’s heart flutter still, despite being satisfied.

“Yes, it’s… a shame I have to leave, but I wouldn’t want to have any rumors spread about you.”

“Not about this, that is,” Hamilton said, grinning. Jefferson chuckled as he slipped on his overcoat, running his fingers through his hair to be presentable again (and hopefully attractive to a certain man).

“Perhaps we’ll do it again sometime,” Jefferson said airly, walking towards the door. Hamilton hummed, but didn’t respond. Jefferson opened the door, but the prick of Hamilton’s eyes on his neck… it made him speak. “And… perhaps we can meet up with Madison and- and reach a compromise with your debt plan.” He cringed as he said it.

“That… would be lovely, Jefferson…” Hamilton looked down and studied the sheets, his fingers tracing the groove of a wrinkle in the sheets. “I do not expect anything… but I would appreciate that.”

“Of course.” Jefferson smiled despite the twisting in his gut. “Get good sleep, Hamilton.”

“I never do- I’m going to work on my plan more.” He stayed matter of factly. “But perhaps I’ll try… Goodnight, Jefferson.”

“Goodnight, love.” 

Oh, god damn it.

Jefferson was cringing himself inside out as he made his way down the stairs to his parlor. They had sex, he offered him political favors, he called him love- clearly, something had flown out of his head when he came. If he couldn’t- couldn’t piece himself back together, how could he ever assert himself to Hamilton again? He needed to restore order, but nothing about tonight made any sort of sense.

As Jefferson opened the main door and set off into the street, he could feel his head spinning, searching for grounding. He… he had already felt pity for Hamilton, in his situation, before any of this. Hamilton had all but begged him for assistance, and hadn’t mentioned much of his plan at all once their interactions were more sexually charged. Jefferson would have offered him a discussion with Madison anyway, based on the tiredness of his eyes and the whimper in his plea. Jefferson has- hadn’t asked for any of this. Hamilton was the one- he had begged him, he debased himself, desperate for his stupid debt plan. He was the one who spread his legs, and Jefferson has merely taken pity. Alexander had been the instigator, the concept, and Thomas was the human who had taken pity on him and decided to lend him a hand even before his cock was on the table. 

Jefferson still felt a heavy pit in his stomach, but his chest felt lighter as he set off around the street corner, into the night’s stars. He had never relented to Hamilton. They were still just enemies. All could still be right in the world. 

༺ ༻

**Author's Note:**

> No I don’t know why I wrote an almost 10k one shot about this. When I saw I hit 6k my eyes popped of my head. I like long one shots though :)
> 
> Fun fact to leave you with: I like writing from Jefferson’s POV but it is very hard to write Hamilton as looking hot and not Jefferson when we all know who’s hotter between the two actors... so like, you’ll have to go along with Jefferson’s delusions haha.
> 
> Thank you for reading, stay safe out there -xoxo


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